A Place Called Nowhere
Amanda has fought hard to keep her sanity, what she is experiencing is unbelievable. She is caught in a time loop from which she can’t escape. Somehow, she has traveled back to a time when the Second World War is still raging; food is short and on ration. Morale in the tiny hamlet of Nowhere, however, is high the; thought of losing the war has never occurred to anyone. Amanda must get back to normality, and the only way she can see to do this is to turn into a low-life criminal, something she does with reluctance.
Amanda was ecstatic, she had finally got what she had worked seven long years for: a sabbatical. This was her reward for being a conscientious, hard-working employee. She had earned the paid time off, and was determined to enjoy every second of it.
She’d made arrangements for her house to be looked after whilst she was away. Tom Price, an odd job man she had employed on and off over the years, had agreed to look after the garden and his wife Florence, a comely woman, had said she would be only too happy to give an occasional flick of the duster around the house.
Satisfied there was nothing else she needed to attend to before she left on her year-long adventure, Amanda placed her cases in the boot of the car, waved farewell to the next door neighbours who had come outside to wish her a safe journey, and set off.
Not having made any advanced bookings, Amanda was in no rush to arrive anywhere on time. She would decide when it was time to look for a B&B to spend the night, when it suited her.
For the first time in a decade she had nothing planned; she was a free spirit, no longer at the beck and call of anyone. Free to come and go as she pleased, free to do what she wanted.
She was a divorcée; the breakup of her marriage had been unexpected and at the time had taken a lot out of her, but she’d weathered the storm and gotten over it. She was a fighter.
Tim Wellborn had been her first and only love, they had met and married within a year. Everyone had said it wouldn’t last, and they’d been right, it hadn’t.
At first, she had blamed herself for not seeing the break-up coming; all the signs had been there, she had just been too blind to see them.
His weekends away attending nonexistent conferences, working late most nights. And the nearest for ages there had been to anything like romance, had been a peck on the cheek when he left for the office in the morning. Yes, she should have seen it coming, but she hadn’t.
However, the divorce and share up of goods had been amicable and they remained friends.
And now it was all over, she realised it had been for the best; any love there had ever been between them had died a long, long time ago.
Amanda set off that morning heading north, for no particular reason, other than it seemed a good idea at the time.
It was mid-October and the nights were drawing in. She’d stopped in Darlington for refreshments and to tank up, and when the light started dwindling, she decided it was the right time to start looking for a B&B.
Leaving the heavy motorway traffic behind, she took to the side roads and lanes.
It was the best part of an hour, however, before she came across a place that looked promising. A picture book village with thatched cottages, a shop, a church and a pub.
Deciding the pub was as good a place as any to look for a night’s lodgings, she parked the car, turned off the engine, got out, locked up, walked over to the pub, pushed open the door and walked in.
For a few seconds, she stood taking in her surroundings, and if anyone had asked her what she thought of the place, she’d have said it was dated, quaint.
A beamed ceiling, an open fire with a black cat stretched out in front of it, warming its belly. On one wall, a poster stating Careless Talk Costs Lives, on another a Dig for Victory poster. There was no blaring music or fruit machines, just warmth, peace and quiet. Amanda gave a sigh of contentment and strolled over to the bar.